


Fall Into You

by theorchardofbones



Series: Desidero [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Light Angst, Longing, M/M, Mild Language, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans!Prompto, because I apparently can't write anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: Weeks after spending the night together, Prompto is still thinking about Noct — and about that conversation theyshould behaving.





	Fall Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Promptis Fan Week](http://promptisfanweek.tumblr.com) day 5, as a last minute scrambled entry for the prompt 'getting caught'. Not super explicit, just a little bit hot and heavy.
> 
> No Gladios were subjected to witnessing sex in the making of this fic; he does happen to stumble upon the two of them at a rather intimate moment, though.
> 
> Kind of sort of a follow-up to an earlier Promptis fic of mine, [Desidero](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11479920).

Prompto keeps telling himself he and Noct have to actually _talk_ sometime about… whatever this is. He can think that all he wants, but it doesn’t mean it’s any closer to becoming a reality.

Gladiolus is filling the tank and Ignis is stocking up on provisions, which just leaves him and Noct. The last he saw of Noct, he was wandering off in one direction while Prompto took the other.

Prompto sighs and lets his head drop back against the concrete wall of the truck stop behind him, cold seeping through his hair and into his skull. He can hide out here in the shade of the building, waiting until Gladio or Ignis comes looking for him, but he can’t hide forever.

He pushes off from the wall and uses the toe of his boot to roll a loose pebble across the ground. As he kicks it away, somebody rounds the corner of the truck stop.

‘Hey,’ Noct says.

Prompto turns, folding his arms across his middle. It’s chilly out here in the shade; he tries not to think of how warm Noct’s mouth had been on his neck.

‘Hey,’ he says.

Noct has his hands stuffed into his pockets as he trudges over, leaning against the wall. His shoulders are rounded like he’s shrinking away, hiding. He’s not the only one.

‘Slept like crap last night,’ Noct says. ‘Couldn’t get comfortable.’

Prompto had heard him tossing and turning on the far side of the tent; the sound had kept him company when he had failed to find sleep, too.

‘Yeah,’ Prompto murmurs. He wraps his arms a little tighter around himself and brushes his hand over his wrist, where Noct had gripped it so tightly. ‘Me either.’

Silence falls between them and fills the air, and it’s thick — fraught. Maybe it’s the distant hum of the generator, maybe it’s the buzz of the bugs out in the tall grass; it’s heavy, and it makes Prompto’s head swim.

‘Kept thinkin’,’ Noct says idly, looking off into the distance, ‘how much better it would’ve been lying beside you.’

‘ _Noct._ ’

Prompto doesn’t have a follow-up. Even as the prince meets his eye, Prompto sighs and turns away, letting the scenery fill his vision.

They’re pretty far from civilisation — well, what counts for civilisation outside Insomnia’s walls. There’s no other cars for miles on the dusty, ill-kept road, and from where Prompto stands he can see the blacktop stretch on and on, no buildings to block it from view.

He fills his lungs, ready to let go of another sigh — but then Noct’s hand touches his hip, slipping past his vest, and he blows it all out in one sharp breath.

‘You don’t need to avoid me,’ Noct says. His fingertips working their way up under the hem of Prompto’s shirt. ‘Just tell me to leave you alone and I will.’

Prompto tries to ignore the way his skin prickles under Noct’s touch, tries not to lean into it. Definitely tries not to close his eyes, but when he does it anyway it almost feels like there’s no point in fighting. He wets his lips, and then Noct has a finger through one of his belt loops and tugs him, urgently, back toward the shelter of the wall.

Prompto lets Noct lead him, and he lets his friend push him back against the wall, and just as he’s letting Noct tilt his head back to mouth kisses into his throat, he realises there’s no _letting_ about it. He doesn’t want to stop — he does, in theory, but what he _really_ wants, what he’s wanted all day, is _this._

‘We should stop,’ he says, but he puts his hands on Noct’s hips and pulls him in close until they’re flush.

Noct’s breath is hot on his neck; his hands are hotter still as they slip under his shirt, kneading at his flesh. Prompto’s just wondering how much they could get away with here, out of sight but most definitely not out of mind, when Noct nips at his throat and draws a gasp, sharp and ecstatic, from his lips.

Noct’s hand moves, moves down and cups between Prompto’s legs; the motion presses his briefs between his thighs, clinging to the wetness there, and Prompto barely bothers to stifle the moan that Noct’s touch teases out of him.

There’s no question of what he wants — of what either of them want — but even as Prompto’s hips urge down against Noct’s hand he forces his eyes open, like struggling out of a dream.

‘Noct,’ he says.

Maybe there’s something in his tone that rings alarm bells with Noct, but whatever it is he’s immeasurably glad — and disappointed, damned hormones — when the prince pulls away and lets his hands drop.

‘I’m sorry,’ Noct says, shaking his head.

His cheeks are pink, the colour creeping down his neck and under the collar of his tee, where a little bit of his collarbone is just visible — and Prompto has to fight every fibre his being not to lean down and kiss him there, where the curve of flesh over bone just begs for his touch.

‘No,’ Prompto says, raggedly. He licks his lips, and swallows, and he’d give his left hand for a gulp of water right about now. ‘No, it’s okay. I just…’

They’re a little apart, still close enough that Noct can grip the corner of Prompto’s vest and tug on it, gently, lifting his eyes until their glances meet.

‘You just what?’

Prompto shrugs — he doesn’t even know. Doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time, what any of the garbage means when he spews it around Noct, giddy like a schoolkid trying to impress his first crush.

‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Maybe we should talk about this first. Before… y’know. Before it gets out of hand.’

‘ _Gets out of hand?_ ’ Noct says, with a husky little chuckle. The sound of it rings through Prompto from the tips of his toes to the roots of the hair on his head.

Noct lifts his hand and ghosts it over Prompto’s cheek. It’s like he’s teasing — like he knows what he’s doing when he lets his thumb brush just slightly against Prompto’s lip.

There’s a sound, at the edge of Prompto’s awareness; one minute Noct’s got a little smirk on his lips and the next he’s looking away, and the sound comes again and this time, slowly, Prompto realises it’s a voice.

‘We’re heading out,’ Gladiolus says. ‘Five minutes.’

He’s awkward, not quite meeting either of their glances — when has he ever been awkward? He waits just long enough for Noct to nod and then he turns and heads off, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck as he goes.

‘Shit,’ Noct mutters.

‘Yeah,’ Prompto says weakly.

He expects Noct to turn tail just as quickly as Gladio, but the prince catches him off guard and steps close again, cupping Prompto’s face in his hands and kissing him.

‘We’ll talk,’ Noct says, pulling back. ‘Soon. I promise.’

Prompto gives an uncertain little nod and watches as Noct goes, pulling his clothes straight along the way. It occurs to Prompto that he should do the same; he yanks at the hem of his tank top, pulling it back down over his hips, and wriggles in his vest in an effort to try to get it sit right. It never quite does, and it feels like he’s on edge, like his skin is hypersensitive and everything feels too real, too close.

He huffs out a breath and pushes his hair out of his face, lowering himself to his haunches.

‘What the hell are we doing?’ he groans, letting his head hang.

By the time he regroups with the others, Noct is back to normal — like somebody tripped a switch and he’s his usual disinterested self, wedged into his corner of the Regalia with his phone nestled in his hands.

As Prompto steps up and pops the passenger side door, he thinks he sees the prince’s glance lift to study him. When Prompto looks up, Noct’s eyes are back on his phone once more.


End file.
